


no flame burns forever (you and i both know this all too well)

by orphan_account



Series: firefighter AU [2]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, FFAU, Firefighter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla as a firefighter but this time from Laura's POV?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This doubles as a graduation present for [the only reason this au even exists](http://izzyvonheeringen.tumblr.com/) and a birthday gift for [my bs au partner in crime](http://itmustbebunnies.tumblr.com/). It's also for every single one of you who yelled at me about Laura POV.
> 
> Title from a Mumford & Sons song.

"Are you really bringing that with you?" Carmilla looks pointedly at the fire department shirt in your hand and cocks an eyebrow. "I'm almost sure it's mine."

"If it's yours, then why's it in my closet?"

She rolls her eyes and her mouth opens slightly to complete the trademark expression that makes her look like the entire world has personally offended her, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe 'cause you're a thief?"

You deliberately make eye contact with her before folding up the shirt in question and placing it in your suitcase.

"Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?"

"That's what I have you for." You tell her and you don't have to look up to know she's rolling her eyes at you. "What time does your shift start?"

"Seven."

"Oh, we've got time." You zip up your suitcase and do one last sweep of your bedroom for things you might have overlooked during your original packing session. You find a pair of Harry Potter themed socks under the desk that you throw into one of the boxes that Carmilla's sitting next to on your bed. She only shakes her head at you in what seems like exasperation.

You're almost sad to leave your childhood bedroom behind for a tiny dorm room in Seattle, but you're excited at the same time. Even if campus is only an hour away from home, it's still the first time you've ever been on your own. It's also the first time your dad has ever been on _his_ own.

"You'll take care of him, right? When I'm gone?"

"You're moving twenty miles away from this sad town, not a thousand." Carmilla says, picking a box up off the bed as you secure your backpack around your shoulders in preparation for carrying your suitcase downstairs. "Chief'll be fine."

"He forgets to take his vitamins - "

"Laura, I am not reminding _my boss_ to take his medication - "

"Can you remind my Dad?" You ask her, knowing that the distinction between him being her boss and him being your father is one Carmilla will not fail to recognize.

She sighs, "I'll make sure someone mentions vitamins to him every now and then."

"And make sure he goes home when he's supposed to."

"When's bedtime?" Carmilla bites out and you automatically reach out to tap the side of her cheek. She holds your gaze in quiet rebellion for a moment before your eyebrow raise sends her mouth into a smile.

"There you are." You say, stepping past her to open your bedroom door. "I mean, I know you'll miss me, but there's really no need to be in such a horrid mood, hoser."

"I'm not going to miss you." She insists as the two of you go down the stairs. Your dad raises an eyebrow from the kitchen table at the exchange and you only smile. "I'll see you every Sunday, for God's sake."

"Really? Sure seems like it to me."

"Twenty miles, Laura."

"It's gotta be more than that." You tease as you step out the front door and towards the driveway where your truck's waiting. 

"Twenty point three eight." Carmilla mutters. "But that's not the point."

You ignore her for a moment in favor of opening the bed of your truck and hoisting your suitcase up onto it. Your backpack goes next and then Carmilla places the box down carefully as well.

"I'll write to you from the city, Carm." You feign devastation and she smiles a little at your theatrics before schooling her face back into one of disinterest. "I'll never forget you."

"Shut up." She says, but the way she bumps her shoulder against yours - gentle and affectionate, but also gruff all at the same time - as the two of you walk back up the driveway tells you all you really need to know.

* * *

Classes are easy during the first week. You make friends with the people on your floor in the dorms and you're lucky enough to not have a roommate, so you don't even have the daunting challenge of adjusting to sharing space. In fact, the first week is so easy that you almost want to skip out on Sunday lunch because it doesn't feel like you've accomplished anything when you know for a fact that both Carmilla and your father expect to be told all about the excitement of university.

It's not exciting. It's missing home and wishing the food in the dining hall was better and having to adjust to the bright light of your dorm room when you've spent as long as you can remember doing homework under the dim lighting of the fire house kitchen. It's missing Carmilla's snark and your dad's easy affection. _It_ isn't what you expected.

Still, after the first week, you go home and Sunday lunch makes you feel like you're somewhere between belonging in Seattle and belonging here, in a town that makes you feel like you can never really leave.

* * *

Before you know it, you're going home for Thanksgiving, then you're going home for Christmas. Then your second semester ends and you're living back at home with your things still in their boxes and half your clothes spilling out of your open suitcase while the other half is split between the foot of your bed and the floor of your closet.

You get a summer job at the newspaper and you're assigned to cover any fire-related news, so you start spending even more time at the station. Home feels off, but sitting in the fire house kitchen humming to yourself and reading while Carmilla looks over reports makes you wonder how you'd ever questioned where you belong because it's so clearly _here_.

You expected there to be no change with your dad, but you're pleasantly surprised that you and  Carmilla haven't fallen out of your strange rhythm. She still looks at you half the time like you're fifteen and she's nineteen and the two of you are meeting for the first time over your dad's kitchen table. But it's mostly fond exasperation in her eyes these days. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

She's easily your best friend, even if you'd grown close to Perry and LaFontaine after interviewing them about treating burns and such on a particularly slow news day. You think you're hers too because she doesn't complain as much when you're around according to multiple sources. And she always always smiles when your fingertips skim the skin of her cheek. You wonder sometimes where that gesture comes from. It serves to bring Carmilla back to herself, back to you, when she wanders too far off for your liking. You think maybe it's a result of drunken nights, but then does it really matter when it's become something so much bigger now?

* * *

Sometime in the middle of summer, Carmilla gets herself a couple of days off and so you find yourself sitting in the bed of your truck with her at the roof of the only parking garage in town, watching the sunset during the time when she'd normally be napping mid-shift at the station.

"You wanna go home?" You ask her when you catch her eyelids drooping. Carmilla is a creature of habit and the fact that she's usually sleeping at this hour doesn't slip by you.

"No. We're going to look at the stars." She says, her voice laced with sleep. "I don't usually get to see them."

"The stars." You repeat, following her line of sight to where the inky colors of the night are bleeding into the warm reds and oranges and pinks of the sunset sky.

"Yes, the stars."

"I didn't know you were a fan."

She scoffs, "How can anyone be anything but? Think about all the work the universe has to do to get the light from those suckers to your eyes."

Yeah, that _is_ a lot of work.

"I used to think space was just the solar system." You confess after a beat of silence and Carmilla turns her eyes away from the massive display of color in front of the two of you in order to raise an eyebrow at you, a smile playing on her lips. "Like, I didn't know it extends past Pluto."

"And what were the stars, the city lights of alien colonies?"

You blush, "Uh, their Christmas lights, actually."

"You're killing me, Hollis." Carmilla laughs. "Always the idealist."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"First the aliens having a God whose birth they celebrate." She smiles. "And now you're pursuing a career in journalism just as print media is dying out?"

"Oh wow, fuck you." You say, knowing that she's joking, but also slightly offended. Which, truthfully, is your natural state when you're with Carmilla.

"Get in line." She says, taking a box of cigarettes out of her pocket. Halfway through pulling a stick out of the opening, though, she seems to realize what she's said. "Oh my god, please don't tell your father I said that."

Your laugh mixes with the smoke that comes out of her mouth and into the space around you. You think, _I want to kiss her_.

* * *

After first year, university goes by faster than you'd ever thought possible.

Carmilla gets promoted to Fire Captain during your last semester and while you're in town for celebratory Sunday lunch, you manage to convince the Editor of the town paper that you're worth a full-time position.

It's still stressful, graduating even though you know you have a job lined up already. And sometimes you don't even know how you manage to pull off the grades you manage to get. There are nights spent whining to your dad over the phone and you sometimes call Carmilla in between classes just to tease her by calling her Cap or Captain, both nicknames that she despises with her whole existence.

Sometimes you abandon working on various projects and papers in favor of eating ice cream and watching Netflix only to regret it the next day and you get headaches from staring at your computer screen too long.

But before you know it, you're back in Kingston and nothing else really matters.


	2. Chapter 2

If you're being honest with yourself, you'd admit that you've had a crippling crush on Carmilla Karnstein ever since you showed her the tattoo of a daffodil you'd gotten on impulse during your second year at university and she agreed to keep her mouth shut about it.

The thing is, though, you're not stupid. She's gone through a girl a week ever since you can remember and you're her type, which can easily be told by looking at all the short honey-blondes you've seen her with. Not to mention the staring, which you've caught her doing more and more. For her, anything that could happen between the two of you would be meaningless, just another tally in her column, and you're not interested in having any part of her if you can't have it all.

At least that's what you tell yourself.

* * *

Your mother died in a fire and when your dad casually mentions that an arson could be causing the upswing in fires all over the county over lunch one Sunday, all you can see in your head is her back to you as she cooked that night.

You're grown up enough to admit that you placed blame on Carmilla for her death when you were younger. You hated Carmilla with every nerve in your body back then, but it only lasted a few short months. Once you saw how lost she used to look, it wasn't hard to want to take her in. It wasn't hard to realize she was just a kid running with the wrong crowd.

You've always had a weakness for strays.

And honestly? You don't think anyone else could have talked down the panic rising in your chest because of your dad's words. There's not one other person on this Earth who you think can ground you with just a simple nudge at your knee like she does.

"Laura." She says, clutching the bowl of salad with both hands. "Chief isn't going into any burning buildings. We'll be fine."

You don't know why, but you believe her.

Your dad apologizes and slips in a comment about the football game and you spend the rest of lunch with your knee pressed against Carmilla's. She doesn't say anything, but she does reach down with a hand to squeeze your knee when the meal ends.

After the two of you are freed post clean-up and an entire half of compulsory football observation, Carmilla leads the way to the truck. She pulls at the door handle impatiently as you fumble for your keys in your pockets.

"What are you, five?" You call over the roof of the truck at her.

You're not sure if she mumbles a sorry or an insult in response, but she's silent the whole way back to her apartment. It's only as she's climbing out of the passenger side door that she even acknowledges you.

"You know I'll take care of him." She says. "I have been since you went to college."

"And who's going to take care of you?"

She pauses, one hand holding the door open while she uses the other to prop herself up against the seat. And then she says, "Me. I take care of myself."

You're not sure what compels you to say it. Maybe it's the way the late afternoon sun softens her edges into sepia, the ends of her hair all dip-dyed in ancient light. Her eyes are bright and your voice comes out hoarse, "I'd do it if you'd let me."

" _Yeah_ , you kinda need to be a trained firefighter to keep me from dying in a blaze, but thanks for the offer, Hollis." Her voice is full of humor, but the way the corners of her mouth lift tells you that she did in fact appreciate your concern.

"Anytime." You watch as she pulls herself completely out of the vehicle. "You're welcome for the ride, too."

"You go too fast." Is all Carmilla says before she shuts the door and walks away.

* * *

Less than a month later, you're wishing you had the guts to put yourself through firefighter training.

You're leaning against your truck like you usually do when you roll up to the scene. Most people would probably be alarmed by the flames licking at the structure, but you're a journalist, there's no room for childhood fears. Even if your best friend _is_ in there. It's a mentality you've held on to since you first got a job at the paper and it's been so long since the last time Carmilla didn't come sauntering out of a burning building the same way she came that it takes you a full minute to realize that something may be off.

It's only a few moments after Kirsch comes out carrying an injured woman that you really start to panic because Carmilla is still in the building and the one person you could have counted on to have her back is standing closer to you than to her. The thought is, quite frankly, horrifying.

Suddenly, you're a kid again, scribbling away at your science homework while your mother is making soup at the stove. You can hear the sirens in your head and you can see the ceiling collapsing on top of her as your father carried you to safety. It's a memory you've never been able to escape and you hope against hope that this won't become another.

As if some sort of higher power can read your mind, the building starts caving in on itself in real time and your breath catches in your throat and doesn't release until you see Carmilla walking slowly back towards the engine. You can't take care of her, that much she's already made clear to you so you do the only other thing left for you to do.

She freezes when your hands find their way under her coat and her shirt, but her muscles eventually relax against your palms. You count her ribs, still there, still caging in the breath that keeps her alive.

“What the hell took you so long?” Your voice sounds strange even to your own ears and Carmilla looks a little taken aback by it.

“I was making sure there weren’t any people in there. I was doing my job.”

She has a point, but it's still so fresh in your mind - the worry, the fear that she wouldn't come back - that you can't help but pull on the fabric of her jacket to drag her in for a hug. She exhales deeply before wrapping her arms around you in return and when she speaks, you can feel her voice rattling against your chest.

“I’m sorry for worrying you."

You take a step back so you can reach up with a hand to tap your fingers against her cheek. You smile almost without meaning to when the grin spreads over her features.

“I _was_ worried.”

“I know." She's looking at you In a way you've never seen her look at you before and when she holds your hand against her cheek, a voice inside your head screams _kiss her_ but you refrain. “I’ll need to talk to the police when they get here. I’ll meet you back at the station?”

_You don't want any part of Carmilla unless you get to have all of her_ , you remind yourself, _otherwise it would hurt too much_. The thought doesn't stop you from kissing her on the cheek where your joined hands were just seconds ago before you step away from her, though.

“I think I should go home.” You say and Carmilla turns her head away from you at the sound of sirens. You follow her eyes to fire engines and police cars approaching from down the street. “That’ll be Dad in that truck, yeah?”

She nods.

_You don't want any part of Carmilla unless you get to have all of her_. You don't want anything less than everything and you know it's something she probably won't give. _Save yourself the trouble, Hollis_.

“I’ll see you.”

* * *

 

Carmilla is like this uncontrollable disease.

You decide one night while you're drunk - she's on leave because of her minor injuries and you've stayed away because you feel far too raw to be comfortable - that maybe you need a Carmilla vaccine because the way she looks at you makes your head spin.

But you can't. You can't stay away because she's under your skin and in your veins and you try to rationalize jumping her bones in the middle of the same night as you working to become immune to her. You've never been so wrong in your life, though, because the moment her knees hit the hardwood, you're putty in her hands and forever's on your mind.


	3. Chapter 3

 

It doesn't surprise you that you and Carmilla are good at sleeping together.

The two of you have always been strangely compatible. By no means are you saying that you're meant for each other because _no_ , but you also can't deny that if that one story of people originally coming in pairs until they pissed off a god - you're not sure which god exactly and which culture because you, admittedly, did not listen too well in Classical Mythology, but the concept had been interesting enough to hold your attention - if you lived in that story and had to spend the rest of your life looking for your other half, Carmilla would be in the running to be your right hand man.

You honestly can't get enough of her and a part of you hates that because you can't even laugh off her _you are insatiable, cutie_ s delivered with her trademark asshole smirk due to the fact that it's _true_. Carmilla seems to bring out another side of you. A side that is comparable to a horny teenage boy.

You've known since you first laid eyes on her how attractive she is, but now it's like your _whole body_ knows she's attractive and certain parts of you know exactly how good she is with her hands. And her mouth - God.

* * *

After what feels like the millionth time that Carmilla's come with your hand shoved down the front of her pants and your name on her mouth - the sex is so good that you honestly are surprised you haven't been sleeping with her for _years_ \- you have to rush out of the fire hall before she can return the favour because you made a lunch date with LaFontaine.

"Won't you stay a little while longer?" She says in a suggestive tone. Her pants and shirt get thrown somewhere near the window as she climbs underneath the covers of her bed."I'll make it worth your while, I promise."

She's smirking up at you and you shake your head to get yourself out of the trance that her eyes always seem to put you in. They've been a shade darker every time she looks at you lately and the implications of that sends a shiver down your spine. She notices, and a little laugh escapes her mouth. Carmilla shifts a little and you have to turn away because she's propped herself up on her elbow and you can't focus on buttoning up your shirt when she looks like that."I can't, Carm. I made plans."

"That's a pity." Her voice drops and you chance a quick look at her from over your shoulder only to see that she's let the green blanket pool around her hips, her hand is slowly sliding down the smooth skin of her abdomen. "I guess I'll just have to do without you."

You can't decide if you want to watch her hand as it progresses down her body or if her eyes deserve your attention because she's looking at you in a way that you can't describe as anything other than _hot_.

"Carmilla. _Don't_."

"I don't have anything to do." She says conversationally and you really do want to give her props for how well she manages to pull that tone off even though she's breathless. "And I saved an antelope stuck in a fence today."

"An antelope." You repeat, no longer pretending that you're not watching her. "My hero."

She hums in response and you can't take your eyes off of her fingers as they trace lazy circles in between her hipbones, "It's alright. If that doesn't get me laid today, I'm sure it'll pay off in the future."

"I'm pretty sure it was you I _just_ fucked against the door."

"But not for saving an antelope." She says sadly. Her hand drifts under the blanket and you take a few steps towards her without thinking. Carmilla's pupils are blown out so wide that from where you're standing, her eyes look glossed over. You admit defeat to whatever higher power you've offended to deserve her teasing you like this and reach into your pocket and text LaF that you're sorry, but the two of you will have to do lunch another day.

Carmilla seems slightly annoyed by the fact that you're using your phone while the two of you are holding some sort of conversation, but that disappears off of her face quickly when you start shucking off the jeans that you've just gotten back into. She hums low in the back of her throat in what seems to be approval.

"No." You agree, beginning to unbutton your shirt, and she chooses that exact moment to slip a finger or two - you can't tell or see because of the damn blanket and it's driving you insane -  and her hips buck up, a groan rumbling out of her chest and spilling into the room. She's still looking at you, a mixture of smugness - a result of the look of wonder that you're pretty certain has taken over your whole face because of her, probably - and desperation on her face.

"Laura, I swear, if you don't come over here - " You cut off whatever she's about to say by closing the distance between the two of you and straddling her, one of her arms still moving between your bodies as you guide her mouth to yours. She's panting and the kisses are messy, but you've never felt so in sync and so connected with anyone in your life.

"Are you close?" You breathe out into her mouth and she shakes her head, your foreheads sliding against each other. "No? What do you need?"

Her arm stills, "Your fingers."

"Are yours not enough?"

She shakes her head again and you keep kissing her because she tastes so good under your tongue. You try to shake off the feeling in your chest that stabs at the thought of _this isn't permanent_ and _Carmilla probably did this same thing last night with some girl she met at a bar_.

"Mine are no good." She whimpers when you reach down to grip at her wrist in encouragement for her hand to move. You know she'll deny ever saying that past this moment, but you can't get enough of seeing her like this, head thrown back, back arched, lips swollen from the pressure of yours moving against them. "Need yours. Laura. Please."

"Okay, babe." You kiss her to get the taste of the nickname slipping out of your mouth off of your lips and she flattens her spine against the mattress to accommodate you. Slowly, you pull at her wrist and Carmilla tucks her head against the side of your neck, sighing when her arm is freed from where it's trapped between you. She wastes no time in anchoring said hand into the fabric of your half unbuttoned top and you nudge at her to lift her chin so you can kiss her again.

You follow the path her hand had traced earlier, even taking a few seconds to draw circles into her skin. Carmilla whines when your hand comes into contact with her clit and she just about growls when you push the tips of your fingers into her.

"Laura." She says and her mouth is at your shoulder now, you can feel her teeth against your skin. "More."

You're not really surprised when she bites down hard on your shoulder when you comply, but it makes you grind down against her all the same. Carmilla moans as you set a steady rhythm. You know you can drag her kicking and screaming, so to speak, into orgasm, but right now, you're more interested in seeing if you can coax her there. You use your free hand to push at her chin again and pretty soon, her open mouth is pressed against the smile you can't quite keep off your face.

Her breathing stutters every time you hit a particularly good spot and within a few minutes, she's panting into your mouth. You quicken your pace, giving up your slow rhythm in favour of being able to press your thumb against her clit and Carmilla moans at that. You swear you can feel the sound travel through your bloodstream.

"Fuck." She whines into your mouth and you pull back a little so you can see her face before curling your fingers inside of her. It's a good idea because that particular movement sends her over the edge and her features stretch into an expression that you can't quite describe, but is so _so_ beautiful that you start to drop kisses on her cheeks, her nose, the corners of her lips.

You can't shake the thought that you want her for the rest of your life.

* * *

After you've let Carmilla blow your mind while your back is against the headboard and she's lying on her stomach between your legs, she climbs back up your body and settles into your lap. She kisses you slowly, like she's afraid you'll disappear out from under her and you grab at her hips, encouraging her to grind down against your leg. You've barely managed to get a hand in between her and your thigh before she's once again shaking in your arms.

Later, when the two of you are so completely spent that you can't even bring yourself to get out of bed, she asks _what are we doing here, Laura?_ and you make some sort of offhand remark and the conversation is all over the place because she wore you out and you can't really think straight, but when she says _what other girls?_ your heart soars and you fall asleep happier than you ever remember being.

* * *

You like taking your work to the fire house.

Even outside of the perks that come with being in close quarters with Carmilla basically all day, there's something comforting in knowing that the people here accept you and welcome you into their little group without question. You like that they listen to you and they seem to enjoy you bossing them into all eating together.

Carmilla usually takes charge of coordinating everyone's combined efforts and turning it into meals to share. She assigns everyone to a duty and it's a rotation of who gets to do what every day. You're thankful that she always seems to keep you away from having to go anywhere near a stove because you've never even owned one in the few years now that you've lived on your own.

There's something different about Carmilla here too. It's like she's more comfortable, more likely to smile even without your fingers at her cheek. There's still something _lost_ about her everywhere else, but at the firehouse and whenever your name's coming out of her mouth in broken syllables and laboured breaths, it's like she's not only happy, but she knows she deserves to be.

* * *

The period of peace doesn't last long.

Sooner rather than later, connected fires are popping up all around the county and Carmilla starts looking more stressed than you've ever seen her before. Your dad is no different and one day, after a particularly rough response that involves, you've heard through whispers behind hands and low voices in the elevator, losing a child's life in a fire, you walk into the station to the sight of your father through the windows of his office yelling wildly at Carmilla, whose face is as stoic as ever. She walks out after a while and leaves the door wide open.

She doesn't even look notice you standing there. She's all purposeful strides up the stairs towards where you know her quaint bedroom is waiting for her. Knowing her, she'll probably try to sleep it off.

"Whoa. What was that about?" You ask your Dad as you're going by. He's walking over to close his door.

"Things aren't going so well on this case."

"And it's Carmilla's fault?"

He looks at you like you've grown two heads and you realize there is a challenge in your voice that you hadn't meant to be there, "No. But we need a better effort."

"She's trying her best, Dad."

"I know she is." He rubs a hand over his forehead and looks up to where Carmilla has disappeared up the stairs. The station is crowded today and it doesn't help his mood. "But she's too trusting of her engine. She needs to toughen up on them. Make sure they're doing their best."

"That's not how Carmilla works."

"No." He agrees.

"You should trust that she's getting the best out of them." You say. "Your job isn't to do hers."

There's a pause.

"Maybe I _was_ too harsh. It won't happen again." He allows, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "You remind me of your mother a lot. Sometimes I used to feel like she was the boss of this place."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No. She always made me feel better after a rough one." He looks pointedly up at the stairs. "Maybe you can do the same for your friend, there."

_Oh, you're planning on it_.

"What about you? Do you need anything?" You bite at the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling before you can even say the words. "Some hair dye to get rid of your greys?"

"I don't need your cheek, Laura." He says, mock glaring at you and shutting the door as you laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

You let Carmilla take you home that night. You can feel the exhaustion radiating off of her person in waves and she takes the lead, pushing you down on the bed before leaning down to kiss you. You don't know if it's her fatigue or the unsettling feelings in your stomach, but the kiss soon slows and turns into a lengthy make out session with neither of you doing anything to take it further. Eventually, Carmilla gets up and walks over to her closet to change into a tank top and underwear to sleep in. You take off your pants, shirt, and bra. She hands you the same shirt you had borrowed that first morning for you to wear to bed.

"You okay?" You ask once you're settled against her. You've cuddled a few times now, but you are always amazed by how soft and inviting Carmilla's body is. She's got an arm curled under one of yours - you try not to think of how perfectly your elbow fits in the crook of hers, but it's a battle that you've lost before you've even started - and her hand is holding gently on to your shoulder.

"'Course." She mumbles from where her head is pressed against your chest. "You made me feel better earlier, didn't you?"

" _Yeah_ , I did."

"See? I'm okay." She yawns and you press your lips against her hairline in silent encouragement for her to sleep. "Just tired."

"I really wore you out, huh?"

"Don't be so smug, Hollis." She mumbles.

* * *

You wake up to Carmilla kissing a trail along the line of your jaw. She smiles against your skin when you thread a hand through her hair in order to hurry her along so you can bring your lips together. It kind of scares you, how much you love the taste of her mouth even though you've both got morning breath because it makes you think about how you seem to like every part of her.

You _like_ her and that makes this messier than it already is.

The thought makes you want to get up out of bed so you can somewhat clear your head, but Carmilla seems intent on covering every inch of your skin with her lips. She gestures for you to take off your shirt and so you do.

You've had a crush for too long and the two of you never do this quite like this, with the sun putting a glint in her eye and it drives you insane how torturously patient her hands are.

Something has changed. It's not the frantic rush that was present the first few times you had her naked under your hands nor is it the playfully teasing familiarity that's been dominating your daydreams for the majority of the past few months. This is something else. Almost like she's trying to tell you something, but isn't quite sure what it is herself. Later, when she's coming apart underneath you, you get this overwhelming urge to run. Your heart starts beating triple time and you don't think you can look at her any longer without screwing this up because  _how_  can she expect you to keep this platonic when she's looking at you like that?

You've wanted her for so long and the possibility of her wanting you too -

It's a dangerous sliver of hope that you try and discard, but waking up next to Carmilla every day is tempting and sometime between her passing out with her head against your shoulder and her waking up, you let yourself fantasize about taking her out. Just the two of you, you'd pick her up and get her flowers and maybe she'd tease you for being a romantic, but you'd know she secretly loves it. And you'd hold her hand while you drive or maybe she'll put hers on your knee. At the end of the night, you would walk her to her door and kiss her like you've been wanting to.

You're aware that it is a train of thought that could get you into _a lot_ of trouble. So as soon as Carmilla's up and functioning, you make an excuse to leave. You need to get out of this apartment, out of the bed that engulfs you completely in her scent and out of the living room full of books whose spines she's traced more reverently than she has yours. Maybe a few hours away from her can save you from your delusional thoughts.

You can't help but kiss her on your way out the door, though, and the way she melts against you makes your mouth dry.

* * *

You're so lost in your relentless imaginings of taking Carmilla out on a date that it takes you almost half a day to realize that she's ignoring you. You try and not let it affect you because Carmilla is cool and detached normally anyways, but she purposefully makes sure to keep at least three people in between the two of you at all times and sneaks away to shower or nap in the times when she knows you can’t follow. So you get the hint and end up asking Kirsch for scene details instead of her when it comes to that.

A part of you is worried that she's put together that you like her past occasionally being able to touch her and draw moans from her perfect mouth, but another more masochistic part hopes for her to be the one to end whatever is happening between the two of you because you're far too selfish to give up whatever small part of her you have, but you also feel like you're stuck in limbo.

And that's a whole other thing. You can't decide if it's more likely for her to cast you out if she hears about you wanting to be with her or if the chances of her feeling the same way are higher. Judging from the day before, you'd say she feels something too. Maybe not as strongly, but _something_.

But if you take her history into account, well -

Then again, maybe her history shouldn't matter. Maybe this thing between the two of you is completely different from anything she's ever had with anyone else. Maybe the only history of hers you should be thinking about is the one she has with you.

You want so badly to be able to read her as easily as running your knuckles against her cheek makes her smile.

* * *

She ignores you for four days.

It's _hell_ , but you're not sure you have the guts to confront her about it so you keep quiet. Eventually, she starts speaking to you again, even going as far to formally invite you to sit with her at the kitchen table of the fire house. She has a lot of paperwork to do and so you sit in relative silence, writing up an article about the town’s resident hoarder. It isn’t exactly hard - hitting journalism, but hey, it pays the bills.

An hour after you start, Carmilla clears her throat and rolls an orange across the table at you. It's clearly a peace offering and it makes your heart skip a beat. You don't pause in humming one of your favorite songs to say thank you, but you do smile at her and the way she ducks her head a little bit tells you she understands.

She goes back to what she's doing, but then looks over at you as you’re putting a piece of orange in your mouth and she smiles softly and the glazed look in her eye makes you think she probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. It almost takes your breath away, how she’s looking at you and you love this expression on her face.

You love _her_.

That makes you choke a little bit because you had known for a while know that you feel something for her, but being in love with her is a completely different matter and the realization is one that you were wholly unprepared for.

She looks at you, concerned, and you only manage to stutter out that you’re fine before you have to completely devote yourself to this article and try not to feel things because this is not good _at all_.


	5. Chapter 5

There's a close call involving Kirsch and a house that has obviously been tampered with one morning while you're buying a bagel from the bakery near your office. You had planned to work _where_ you work for once, but as soon as _We Didn't Start The Fire_ starts blaring out of your phone speakers, you know there's no way you're going into work if Carmilla needs you.

"Laura." She says when you pick up. "Can you come here?"

She goes on to explain what's happened before repeating her request. She sounds like she's shaken up and there is no doubt in your mind that she wouldn't have called if she wasn't.

"Just please come here." She says when you inquire about her own well-being.

You don't have to ask where.

When you get to the fire house, you find Carmilla on the roof, cigarette held in between her lips. She's looking out into the distance, one hand tucked in the pocket of her uniform pants. You want to wrap your arms around her, but lately you've been unsure about what kind of touching constitutes as friendly and what counts as something else. In your mind, everything you do for her is a result of the muscle in your chest that contracts wildly every time you see her smile.

"You shouldn't smoke." You say out of habit and she turns towards you almost immediately. Carmilla drops the cigarette and puts it out under the heel of her shoe. Slowly, she walks towards you.

"Thank you." She mumbles and you can't help but reach up to slip a hand against her cheek. Her smile is weak, but there nonetheless. You let your hand linger for a moment and she leans into the touch.

"There you are." You manage to breathe out despite the wild thumping in your chest. Carmilla smiles again before stepping back from you. "Is he going to be okay?"

"They say he'll be fine." She frowns a little. "But I was scared and I called you without thinking - "

"That's okay." You reach for her hand and she meets you halfway, fingers slipping in between the spaces of yours. "That's what friends are for."

The smile that she gives you is a little bit worn at the edges and a little sad, "Yeah."

* * *

You tell yourself that you won't leave the station until she does. The house as a whole is on edge, not quite over the fact that one of their own came so close to being seriously hurt, but also overflowing with relief that he'll be fine. Carmilla acts as if she's unaffected by it all, but you can see right through her so you follow when she climbs the stairs after telling the boys she's going to take a nap.

It's almost routine now, how Carmilla strips down to just her shirt and underwear before climbing into bed and you kick your shoes off before following suit. Here, gone is that momentary hesitation of whether or not it's okay to hold her against you. The way she sighs like a contented animal when your limbs tangle together makes you smile.

You can't help but think that this feels a lot like the two of you are in love.

The way your heart beats against your chest when she adjusts her position so that she's got her ear pressed against it sounds a lot like _tell her, tell her, tell her_. And it serves almost like a catalyst for your worries to start coming out of your mouth. You try and quell the heaviness of the moment by coaxing a smile out of Carmilla, but she kisses you and you think maybe you've exchanged _I love you_ s more times than you can count through things like _remember your seatbelt_ and y _ou're killing me, Hollis_ and smiling and _there you are_.

Maybe after this case is all wrapped up, you'll take the risk of asking her if she wants to have dinner with you at your favourite pizzeria. There's nothing for you to lose anymore that you won't lose if you keep quiet anyway. If being friends with Carmilla means you can't hold her like this, then you're not sure you want to be friends at all if you can't be something else together.

The alarm rings a few hours after she's fallen asleep against you and you kiss her before she leaves, hoping to imprint yourself into her brain as she goes to deal with disaster. It backfires though because it's all you can think about, how her mouth spread into a small smile afterwards, the whole time you're driving to the scene.

* * *

When you roll up, you know right away that something is wrong because one of the guys from Carmilla's engine tries to stop you from even stepping foot outside of your truck.

"Theo." You say, and you fight to keep your voice even. "What's going on?"

He doesn't reply. Instead, he just pushes your door shut. You contemplate sweet talking him into letting you get out, but the quicker way - hopping over to the passenger side and letting yourself out through that door - wins out.

The building is aflame, as expected, and the training you put yourself through to keep from being afraid is the only thing that keeps you from panicking. It's dark out, but everything seems painted in reds and yellows and flickering lights. You walk closer, quickening your pace when you see a group of firefighters running out of the building. Someone pauses to tell your dad something - he'd been responding to calls as well ever since the police officially launched the investigation - and your heart stops when he quickly rushes into the fire.

"Dad!" You scream as Theo catches up to you and loops an arm around your waist to keep you from going any closer to the building. "Why is he going in there? What's going on, Theo?"

"Calm down, Laura."

You kick your legs up, desperate to get loose. He's stronger, though, and has the advantage of not having wasted a lot of breath screaming just moments before. "Just let me go talk to Carmilla." You tell him. "Maybe she can go in with him and keep him safe. Theo, please!"

You struggle against him some more, craning your neck for the familiar sight of dark curly hair spilling out from under a fire helmet. Carmilla's nowhere to be found, though, and you can't think of anywhere else she'd be other than - 

"Is she in there?!" You finally get loose and you don't know what you plan to do once you get there, but suddenly it's imperative that you're as close to the exit of that building as possible. You elbow your way through the crowd of people fascinated by the flames licking up at the sky and you hop over the barrier with ease. Your lungs burn and it's only when another person knocks the wind out of you by pulling you back that you realize you've been screaming both your father's name and Carmilla's this whole time.

It feels oddly like the world has stopped spinning, but also like it's going faster than it ever has before. Your feet don't seem to be sticking to the ground and your head hurts. There's too much going on around you, too many voices talking over each other, and not enough people doing anything about the fact that the two most important people in your life are in a burning structure.

"Karnstein's in there." Says whoever's got a hold of you. "And both she and the chief will murder all of us if we let you get closer. So just breathe with me, Laura, okay? Come on."

It doesn't work. It's like your breath's stuck in your throat and you don't exhale until several agonizing minutes later when your Dad comes running out of the fire with a broken body in his arms. He's yelling instructions at people straight away and whoever was holding on to you lets go in favour of doing his bidding. Your breath catches again when you see that Carmilla isn't behind him.

There's a flurry of activity around him then and you hold yourself back long enough for them to get whoever was in his arms onto a stretcher. Then you fling yourself at him.

"Dad." He absorbs your weight and pats your back, his body still turned towards where a stupidly large number of his men are running towards the waiting ambulance. "Dad, where's - "

Suddenly, the pieces click together in your head and you know where Carmilla is.

"Dad. _No_." You step away from him and he just hangs his head. "Dad, no. _No_. No. That can't be - she was just - "

_She was just kissing me goodbye? She was just sleeping next to me?_

He opens his mouth to say something, but you can't hear him anymore partly because your heart is pounding in your head and partly because you're now running full speed towards the ambulance as well. Two people try to pull you back, but you manage to squeeze in through the door just before LaFontaine slams it shut.

Time's moving too fast and your hands are shaking. For a moment, you stand completely still, unsure of what to do with yourself, but then Perry moves to fetch a piece of equipment and you get an uninterrupted view of Carmilla's uniform ripped open, her eyelids fluttering irregularly.

You can't breathe anymore because Carmilla's body is slumped like a rag doll. She looks smaller than she is under these lights and you scramble over all the medical equipment over to her side so you can grab her hand.

Briefly, you wonder if Perry or LaFontaine have a problem with you being in here, but that question is answered when LaF turns to you in the middle of checking for Carmilla's pulse.

"Keep her here with us, Hollis." They say.


	6. Chapter 6

You tell Carmilla you love her in that ambulance.

You're not proud of the circumstances you - _she_ \- had to be put under for the words to finally leave your mouth, but you say them anyway. As many times as you can once you've started. It's almost liberating, to have someone other than yourself know what you feel so strongly in your chest.

The next several hours, though, consists of you calling up her brother and falling asleep in one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area of the hospital. Your dad comes to try and convince you to go home, but there is no way you're leaving without knowing that Carmilla's okay first. He argues with you in the beginning, but eventually comes to his senses and leaves only to come back with clothes and a few books for you.

It's almost noon when a doctor comes out to update you on her condition. He assures you that she'll recover, but also warns that she won't be out of the intensive care unit until they are satisfied with her vitals after hours of monitoring her. He too tries to encourage you to go home.

"What is it," You ask him, unable to keep your jaw from clenching, "with people trying to make me go home when I can barely even walk straight because she hasn't woken up?"

* * *

When you finally get to see Carmilla, you're both relieved at how much better she looks and alarmed by the still alabaster colour of her skin. Your dad is with you and he seems to have learned his lesson the first time because he doesn't even protest when you pull the big armchair by the window of the room next to Carmilla's bed so you can curl up there.

The next time you wake up, he's gone and it's dark outside, but Carmilla's brother is leaning against the wall adjacent to the door. He's got a suitcase beside him and a backpack slung over one shoulder. Will doesn't tell you to go home. Instead, he sits on his luggage and the two of you trade stories about encounters you've had with people you used to know from high school. He tells you about his girlfriend and what life is like up in Canada - cold, but also free healthcare - and raises an eyebrow when he asks and you tell him you're single.

"We're not together." You reply when he looks pointedly at his sister and then back at you.

"Why not?"

You don't tell him, but in that moment, you really don't know either.

When the sun rises, Will makes a trip to the cafeteria and comes back with food for the two of you to share. He leaves a cup of ice on his sister's bedside table and you smile at the gesture, knowing that when Carmilla does wake up, it'll save you a trip down the hallway to fetch her water.

After you eat, he kisses her forehead and leaves to find himself a hotel. You open up a book and try to lose yourself in the story, but there's an anxious thing inside your chest that flutters every time you think of how Carmilla might react to what you've said or if she even remembers it. You want to take it back, but only because it feels like the possibility of death was what ripped the words out of your mouth. You want organic, you want a moment when it's just the two of you. Maybe while you're working side by side at the kitchen table in the fire house or while you're getting ready to join her for her mid-shift nap. You don't mean it any less than you would had you said it in any of those hypothetical situations, but for Carmilla you want _normal_. You want her completely with you.

You want to have said it in a time where she could have said it back.

* * *

When Carmilla wakes up, you're so relieved that you start rambling on about anything and everything. She gets medicated into sleep again soon after, but nothing matters anymore. Your worries about how she feels or how you feel and what it all means kind of just disappear because _she's alive_ and breathing.

Will comes back early in the afternoon and you finally leave her bedside. You have work and you need a shower. You do insist in putting your number in his phone, though, should the two of them need anything. It's a decision that you chalk up as one of the best you've ever made when you check your messages on your way to work and a picture of Carmilla scrunching her nose at the hospital jello greets you.

He keeps you updated on her condition throughout the next couple of days because work gets horribly busy and you only have time to drop in for a visit once while Carmilla's asleep just after midnight. She looks more alive, less pale, the bags under her eyes smaller. You promise to leave work early the next day so that Will can have some time to shower and maybe nap somewhere other than in the armchair.

"She asked where you were earlier." He says as you're about to leave. "Your dad came for a visit and it made her miss you."

"Oh, lay off the matchmaking." You say and you can still hear him laughing as you shut the door.

* * *

You take Carmilla's hand as soon as you walk in the next day. She still looks a little too weak for your liking, but there is some colour back in her cheeks.

"How you feeling, hoser?"

"Don't fucking call me that, Laura." She says seriously and it makes you smile because she must feel herself now even if only a little.

"Did my Dad give you the third degree last night?" You joke. Carmilla's face pales a little, though.

"Did you tell him?" She demands, just about jerking upright in her indignation.

" _Of course not_. It wouldn't have taken a genius to put the pieces together once I fought past two grown men to get to you in that ambulance, though." She's looking at you with something like wonder in her eyes and you can't stand to be in this strange limbo any longer. "Carm, I - "

"I know. I remember." She says simply and the knowledge is enough to make your heart soar. There's a pause and then her hesitant voice. "I love you too, Laura."

Your head snaps up at the words that you can't quite believe are coming out of her mouth, "You do?"

"Of course I do." She's more sure this time and it hits you that the hesitance is less to do with how she feels and more geared towards voicing it. "I love you."

You don't realize how close you are to her until you can count every individual eyelash as they brush against the tops of her cheeks. Slowly, you brush the backs of your knuckles against the side of her face and the grin that results is so lovely that you want to remember it for the rest of your life.

"There you are."

* * *

You finally take Carmilla to your favourite pizzeria almost a full two months after she gets out of the hospital. She wears a burgundy skirt paired with a plain black top and she smiles into the flowers that you greet her with when you knock at her door. You walk to the place instead of driving and Carmilla drapes an arm around your shoulders halfway there. She smiles when you reach up to tangle your fingers together at your shoulder.

It's so unbelievably easy to be with her.

Afterwards, when you walk her home, she doesn't even bother letting go of your hand so she can unlock her door. Instead, she pulls the keys out of her purse clumsily with one hand and drags you inside. The door is barely closed behind you when she starts whispering _kiss me, Laura_ into your mouth over and over again, her hands cupping your cheeks. You oblige.

She loves you. _She loves you_. She loves you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you need me, you can find me [here](http://sedinbrothers.tumblr.com/)


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